


Stripped

by October_rust



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Sexual Tension, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/October_rust/pseuds/October_rust
Summary: Jason takes care of a wounded Tim.





	Stripped

“You know, this is actually your fault.”

“How so? I saved your skinny ass, Replacement.”

Tim looked up from his arm that hung useless and limp in a makeshift sling. “You blew up the building, Jason. With us still inside.”

“We weren't still inside. We were almost outside.” Jason, the bastard, had the gall to grin at him. Tim felt the sudden urge to wipe the expression off of Jason's face with his fist. “And you were outnumbered. If I hadn't come, those freaks would have killed you.”

Tim had to grudgingly concede that Jason was somewhat right; yes, the mission had taken a turn for the worse, and, yes, it had been good to have Jason as a backup. Besides, they were abroad, on unfamiliar turf – at least to Tim - and now he really appreciated that Jason happened to keep a safehouse in this city.

A safehouse with blessedly well-stocked medical supplies, he thought as painkillers started to dull the vicious throbbing in his arm.

Well, could as well try to get out of his uniform. 

He reached over his shoulder, barely managed to touch the clasp of his cape, before Jason caught his wrist in a strong grip.

“Oi, Replacement, what the hell are you doing?” Jason's voice was gruff, his brows drawn together in a disapproving frown. “You're not supposed to put a strain on that arm. And I thought you were the smart one.”

And then he let go of Tim's wrist and moved to stand behind Tim's back. 

“Hold still, Replacement.”

Tim froze, all of his awareness narrowing down to Jason's presence at his back, the sheer power of Jason's body, the way Jason was towering over him, lethal and intimidating.

They were once in a similar position, and the memories resurfaced, the skin at his throat tingling as he remembered the bite of naked steel, the panic when the blood started flowing, Jason's fingers clawing into him, cruel and ruthless. 

But now that old nightmare was taking on a different edge, an edge that made Tim's breath hitch and his eyes squeeze shut, his pulse hammering wildly in his ears.

He could only wait, every muscle tense and coiled. 

Finally, deft fingers undid the clasps of his cape, and the fabric slid from his shoulders, smooth and silent, to pool at his feet.

Next was his utility belt: he almost flinched, fists clenching, fingernails digging into his palms, when Jason reached around to open it. 

The belt landed on the floor with a clink.

“You know,” Jason said, his tone easy and conversational, hands still resting on Tim's hips. “I once wanted to rip this suit off you. Felt you had no right to wear these colors.”

“Yeah?” Tim asked, hating the hoarse catch in his voice. “And now?”

Jason's fingers trailed up, unerringly finding the hidden fastenings and zippers, parting the red tunic and removing the armored layers underneath, piece by piece. Tim swallowed as air hit his naked back. 

“Now?” Jason pushed the tunic off Tim's shoulders, mindful of the injured arm. “I think you earned it.” He bent down, hot breath washing over Tim's ear. “And it looks good on you.” 

And Tim couldn't smother down a gasp at those words, not when the sense of danger, the old terror, was twining with arousal, the two sensations so tangled up together that he couldn't tell them apart in that moment. 

Old nightmare, and his current, secret, shameful dream.

Jason, tall and strong, broad shoulders straining against the leather of his jacket, narrow hips cocked as he took aim.

Jason, his cheeks flushed, eyes the color of deep blue sea, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Jason, naked, panting, calling out Tim's name.

But this was just a fantasy, the one that Tim could never truly admit to, and the one that Jason could never know about.

“Jason ...”

His voice cut off, dissolving into another startled noise, as Jason's mouth grazed the side of his neck, dragged over the thin scar left by Jason's knife all those years ago. He trembled, eyelashes fluttering closed, blood thrumming through his veins.

If this was allowed to continue, he was going to embarrass himself.

And the thought of seeing mockery in Jason's eyes, or, worse still, pity, was unbearable.

Determined, mortification churning in his stomach, he tried again to free himself. “Jason, let me go.”

In response, the hands gripping his waist only tightened, pulling him flush against Jason's chest. He bit his lip at the blast of heat, the steady drum of Jason's heartbeat, all separated from his naked skin just by the thin barrier of Jason's shirt. Of course it was Tim's luck that Jason had already shed his Red Hood armor and gear, so now he could torment Tim all the more.

Just his shitty luck.

He bowed his head in defeat, Jason's body like a solid wall behind him, the arms around him caging him like steel bands. 

“If this is some game to you,” he whispered, cheeks burning hot with humiliation. “Then that's it, you've won. You've had your fun. Now let me go.”

He felt Jason stiffen at his back. The silence between them grew tense, all playfulness dissipating. 

Then, feather-light, Jason's lips brushed his nape.

“Tim,” he said, voice quiet, almost shy. “I'd never joke …” A pause. “Not about this, Tim. Never this.”

With gentle hands, careful so as not to aggravate Tim's arm, Jason slowly spun him around. When Tim looked up at him, Jason's gaze was serious, without any hint of teasing.

But what really made his own eyes widen was the naked desire darkening the blue of Jason's irises, the raw hunger that sent another shiver down Tim's spine. 

“It was never a game, Timmy.”

Strong fingers cupped his jaw, tilted his chin up, and, before Tim could make sense of it all, Jason's lips covered his own.

Stubble scratched against his skin, and Tim couldn't help himself – he yanked at the collar of Jason's shirt, sank his teeth in the softness of Jason's bottom lip to deepen the kiss, his own desire blazing up like a naked flame. He moaned, loud and shameless, as their tongues dragged together in a slow, filthy thrust. 

Jason's answering groan, the helpless roll of his hips – it was almost too much, too real, too intense. But Tim took it all, greedy to feel Jason under his hands, to hear those sounds spilling from his lips, all because of Tim, all for him.

Jason pulled away with a gasp, just as Tim was starting to get light-headed, too lost in the taste of their kiss.

“Timbo,” he said, resting his forehead against Tim's, their harsh breaths mingling together. “You're injured, we shouldn't ...”

“Oh, shut up.” Tim tightened his grip on Jason's shirt. “You started it, so finish it.”

It took just one small tug to crush Jason's lips back against his own.


End file.
